


Survivor

by red_savage



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Cliche: Fusion with another fandom, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_savage/pseuds/red_savage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/U. In the large tapestry of the universe it didn't matter what your name was. Fate didn't care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor

Doctor Hank Pym worked half-heartedly on the instruments set out on the cramped lab table inside the Battlestar Galactica. It was a far cry from the elaborate labs he was used to working in on Caprica. It still beat the frak out of being on Aerelon, where there was plenty of dirt and cow manure for all of the twelve colonies. He didn't miss it.

He'd told them that he could make a Cylon detector, if they only gave him a nuclear war head. The military brass out of desperation of the situation finally agreed. Typical.

It now sat in a corner of the lab. He could swear the device was staring him in the back. In its dark snug holding bay where it quietly waited for the day when it might be able to fearlessly perform its designated duty; he was sure it was put out at being removed from the lower depths of engineering.

Hank sympathized with the device. Maybe someday he would be a hero again, too. On Caprica, he was lauded both in and out of his field. He had had fame, fortune and glory. It had all gone to his head. He'd slipped up. He had let the unthinkable happen. Now what remained of humanity fled in desperation across the stars. Daily life had become a fight for survival. He could be a survivor, too. People still looked up to him. They counted on him for his scientific knowledge. Someday he hoped he could look at himself in the mirror without flinching.

Today wasn't that day. Today was another day of looking busy in the lab. Far better for him to feel the glare of the warhead than to have hallucinations of tall platinum blond women. Well, not quite women. A woman. One tall provocative bombshell was enough to have nagging at you. He didn't need scores of them after him. He knew her and her kind outnumbered mankind by millions.

She would show up and the most inconvenient times. He could handle it if she was just there. If she wouldn't interrupt him while he was talking to someone very important about something very important. Her timing was awful. It put him into a neurotic state when she showed up out of the blue. He'd catch himself looking around frantically to make sure she wasn't following him. It was silly. It was all in his head. It had to be.

He'd begged the ship's doctor to x-ray and scan him several times to make sure nothing physical was wrong with him. After all he'd been exposed to some of the fall out. He could almost feel his cells mutating into tumors. He was sure of it. It was the only logical explanation for his hallucinations. Or maybe she'd done something to him when they'd been together. The only other explanation left him with cold chills – maybe he was one of them? He glanced at the warhead in the corner.

Why in Gods names did he need a warhead?


End file.
